


I Like My Coffee How I Like My Men - Hot and Foamy?!

by irrationalgame



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: AU, Angst, Fluff, Love, M/M, Masturbation, Modern AU, Romance, Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-04
Updated: 2014-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-31 12:07:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1031546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irrationalgame/pseuds/irrationalgame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern AU</p><p>Inspired by Crocodilepatronus's 'Came for the Coffee, Stayed for the Barista' I decided to write my own coffee shop AU, with Jimmy as the barista.</p><p>Jimmy hates his job at Downton Coffee Co, until a handsome new customer really puts the foam in his latte.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. On The House

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Came For the Coffee Stayed For the Barista](https://archiveofourown.org/works/785332) by [crocodilepatronus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crocodilepatronus/pseuds/crocodilepatronus). 



> This is very cheesy, ridiculously fluffy, and will (eventually!) be smutty. Enjoy!

 

Jimmy hated his job. Well, hated probably wasn't the right word. Loathed was more accurate. Loathed with a burning passion. Jimmy had never had much in the way of ambition when it came to employment, but even he had hope for something better than a barista.

 _Even calling myself a barista is pushing it,_ he thought with chagrin, _I'm more of a dogsbody who they occasionally let pour coffee. I'm a table-clearing, floor-mopping, bin-emptying dogsbody._

It was tiring job; boring and busy, tedious and intricate, all at the same time. And Jimmy wasn't particularly good at it either; he didn't care enough to bother, rather preferring to use his looks and his deliberately tight trousers to charm his way through the day. The hours were long, with never a chance for a sit down, and the money was poor even if you included the good tips that Jimmy frequently collected from blushing young women. Jimmy had even taking up smoking just for the solace of five minutes of quiet in the rubbish-strewn alley behind the shop. _Lung cancer or listening to Alfred go on about rocky-road while Daisy makes ridiculous doe-eyes at him,_ Jimmy mused, leaning on he rough brickwork outside the shop, _I'm not sure what's worse._

Then there was Ivy. Silly, flirty, Ivy. It was obvious that she was besotted with Jimmy by the way she flushed and giggled whenever he so much as looked at her. Jimmy grinned at how easy she was to manipulate into covering his shift or helping with his work; he knew he was taking advantage of her but he just didn't care. Jimmy found it increasingly hard to care about anything these days. His boss, Mr Carson, had chastised Jimmy on every evaluation for his 'poor work ethic' and 'lack of goals.'

 _I've got goals_ , Jimmy pouted, _they just don't involve cappuccinos._

He'd had a vague notion of studying drama or something at university but that had been ruined when both his parents had died quite suddenly, one after the other, so Jimmy had moved to London in the hope of falling into modelling or acting, getting by on his good looks and charm. _Pity so many other more qualified and experienced people had the same idea,_ Jimmy sighed, blowing a plume of cigarette smoke skywards. He'd taken on the job at Downton Coffee Co as a 'temporary' solution; his landlady Mrs Hughes was nice enough, but after a few months with no rent, even she began to lose patience. And surviving on instant noodles and cereal had quickly worn thin. _Not that I'm exactly rolling in it now,_ he thought, _but at least I can afford wine and a flutter on the horses every now and again._

"Jimmy!" Daisy hissed, peering out of the fire exit. "Hurry it up! We've got a rush on."

"Alright," Jimmy flicked his half-smoked cigarette across the alley, "I'm coming."

Daisy hadn't been exaggerating; the queue was out the door. Jimmy pulled his apron up over his head and fixed his name badge back in place: Hi! I'm James! it proclaimed happily in bold white letters. Jimmy considered snapping it in half and throwing it in the espresso machine, but resisted the urge. He started serving a large, red-faced lady who couldn't decide what she actually wanted.

"What do you recommend, James?" She asked, her voice suggestive and syrupy.

"Coffee," was Jimmy's snide reply, as he forced a smile onto his lips. There was a snigger from another customer a few places back and Jimmy tried to peer around the rotund hulk of his current customer to see who had appreciated his clever response. His gaze rested upon a tall, well-dressed man, a few years his elder but equally as handsome, if not more so, than Jimmy himself. His shock of dark hair was a lovely contrast to his soft, pale skin and light blue-grey eyes. A smile tugged at the corner of the man's red lips and Jimmy realised he had been caught staring. Jimmy pulled his eyes away, a light blush settling over his cheeks, a heavy feeling pooling low in his stomach. Jimmy served customers all day, men and women, attractive and less-so, but he'd never had such a physical reaction to any one of them before.

"...so I think I'll just go with that please," the large lady finished, waiting for Jimmy to confirm her order. Except he had no idea what it was.

"Coming right up," he smiled. _I'll just make a cappuccino,_ he thought, _she'll never bloody know anyway._ He tried to concentrate on frothing the milk, but Alfred bumped into him at an inopportune moment and he ended up spraying hot milk all down his apron. And in his hair. And on his face. He presented the (soggy) cup to his customer with a very unhappy smile and took what may or may have not been correct payment.

"Next," he grumped, not looking up from his notepad, "what can I get you?" A trickle of warm milk dripped from Jimmy's nose but he didn't care any more. He was a joke, might as well embrace it.

"Coffee," a smooth, low voice replied. Jimmy instinctively knew it had come from the tall, handsome stranger; the voice, complete with a tinge of sarcasm, fitted him completely.

"Very droll," Jimmy replied, looking up and right into the impossibly blue eyes of the stranger. His breath caught in his chest - even under the cheap neon lights of the Coffee Co, this man looked flawlessly handsome, his sharp cheekbones casting deep shadows in his hollowed cheeks. Jimmy has never been taken aback by the sheer look of someone before, especially not a man, but he found it quite impossible to look away.

"It was your joke," the man replied casually, "and I'll have a medium black coffee, to go please. I usually drink lattes, but I don't think anything with milk is a safe option." He looked Jimmy up and down and leant across the counter, ghosting his fingers over Jimmy's hair and wiping away a little errant milk foam. Jimmy jumped as if he'd been bitten and resisted the urge to lean into the touch. "You had a little foam," the man paused, reading Jimmy's name tag, "James."

"Jimmy," Jimmy replied, his head still buzzing from the brush of the stranger's hand, "only my mum and my boss ever call me James."

"Thomas," the stranger smiled, his teeth white and perfect, "and I'm late for work so..." he gestured towards the coffee cups and Jimmy snapped back to reality.

"Oh," he said, unable to form a coherent sentence, "sorry." He made the coffee with shaking hands, alert to the fact that Thomas was watching his every move, and intensely aware that his trousers were obscenely tight. _I might as well be naked from the waist down,_ he thought, _I feel naked with him looking at me._ "On the house," Jimmy said without meaning too, "erm, because of the wait and...the foam." Jimmy pushed the cup across the counter and threw on what he hoped was a winning smile.

"Well," Thomas smirked, making to leave, "with that kind of service I might just become a regular." He dropped a few coins into the tip jar and sashayed out of the shop. Daisy appeared at Jimmy's elbow.

"He were very handsome," she chirruped, "but weren't not s'posed to give away free coffee."

"Good job Carson didn't see it then," Jimmy snapped, still trying to regain his composure. "And no one's going to tell him, are they?" Daisy pulled a face and shook her head.

"No, but you better get cleaned up before he sees you," she looked disapprovingly at his apron, "you're all..."

"Foamy," Jimmy finished, "I'm aware."

~

Downton Coffee Co had a single, over-used and under-cleaned bathroom, with a smeared mirror and permanent lack of toilet paper. Jimmy splashed his face in the tiny sink and rearranged his hair into some semblance of a style. He appraised his face in the mirror; his blue eyes and full lips looked tired but handsome. _Not bad,_ he smiled, _but not as handsome as Thomas._ He thought about Thomas's angular but fine features, the swell of the man's chest and the broadness of his shoulders, and was shocked when his body flushed with a deep warmth that settled in his groin. It was impossible to ignore the stirring of his prick inside his tight trousers, or how his pulse started to race when he ran his fingers lightly over the taut fabric, imagining it was one of Thomas's hands instead of his own.

 _Am I really going to touch myself in the dingy work bathroom?_ he thought, abashed at his own lack of control, as he unzipped his fly and took himself I'm hand. _So what,_ he grimaced, _it doesn't mean anything._ Jimmy ran his hand slowly but firmly up his length, swiping the pad of his thumb over the bead of moisture on the end of his cock. He leaned against the wall, setting himself into a quick, jerky rhythm, catching sight of his red face in the grubby mirror. He blushed, ashamed, as his mind conjured images of Thomas's red lips and Jimmy imagined how they would feel pressed against his prick. He came quickly, over his hand, his eyes pressed shut, his legs shaking from exertion, a quiet moan escaping from his lips. _It doesn't mean anything,_ he repeated to himself, _I've just not had sex in...well, ever._ Jimmy grimaced, wiping his hands on the cheap, green paper towels. _It's natural to get a bit worked up. It's not like I'll ever see him again anyway._

~

Alfred, Daisy and Ivy were chatting excitedly as they cleared up Downton Coffee Co - the last customer had left and Mr Carson had confined himself to the office for the evening with the cashing up and paperwork. Jimmy mopped the floor absentmindedly, not listening to the conversation.

"D'ya want to come with us Jimmy?" Ivy smiled, "And make an even number?"

"What?" Jimmy shook his head, "Sorry, I wasn't listening."

"He's been like that all day," Daisy said, "like he's off somewhere else."

"Ain't he always?" Alfred added.

"Hello?" Jimmy frowned, "I am here. You can stop talking about me like I'm not, thank you very much."

"Alright, no need to get upset,' Daisy shrugged. "There's a new bar that's just opened up around the corner, s'posed to be real nice and have live music and everything. We're going after work if you want to join us."

"Please come," Ivy pleaded, "it'll be lovely."

 _I'd rather throw myself under a bus,_ Jimmy thought, _but if I go home I'll just...do something unseemly._ "Sure," he shrugged, "but only because Ivy wants me to." Ivy giggled stupidly, Alfred glowered and Daisy just rolled her eyes. _You're all too easy to mess with,_ he grinned.

~

Jimmy had to admit that the bar was pretty nice; it was modern but comfortable, with plenty of low leather chairs and little round tables, opening out into a modest dance floor and a small stage. It was early, but there were already two-dozen patrons milling around, leaning against the bar or talking animatedly in small groups. Ivy selected a table near the stage and sat down with Daisy whilst Alfred and Jimmy waited to be served at the bar.

"I spend all day fetching others people's drinks," Jimmy groused, "and now they've got me fetching theirs too." Alfred just pulled a face.

"You shouldn't flirt with Ivy like that," he said quietly, "it's not right."

"Why not?" Jimmy frowned, "She's not your girl."

"Not yet," Alfred replied, "and you know why. You're just using her. You don't even like her."

"So what?" Jimmy pouted, tired of the conversation.

"You're...hopeless,"Alfred shook his head, "just order the drinks will ya?" Jimmy turned back to the bar to find the barman waiting to take his order. Jimmy froze, surprised to find himself staring right into the grey-blue eyes of Thomas.

"Ah," Jimmy stuttered, his face redding at the memory of what had occurred in the work bathroom, "hi."

"Hello again," Thomas smiled and Jimmy's heart jumped into his throat.

"You work here?" Jimmy asked, dumbfounded.

"No I just do this for fun," Thomas grinned. "I'm actually the manager," he thumbed his name tag which read 'Mr Barrow - Manager', "but one of the barmen is off sick so I'm stuck pulling pints."

"Oh," Jimmy said weakly. He could feel Alfred impatiently jostling his elbow.

"Can I get you something?" Thomas said, his voice low, "Or are you just here to stare?"

"Erm, yes drinks," Jimmy fumbled for the right words. He was usually so self-assured, but around Thomas all his bravado seemed to melt away, leaving a ridiculous stuttering wreck in its place. "Two pints, a shandy and..." Jimmy hesitated, blushing, "sex on the beach. Please." Thomas raised an accusatory eyebrow. "It's for her," Jimmy pointed across the room at Ivy.

"She your girlfriend?" Thomas asked, pulling the first pint.

"Is it likely?" Jimmy snorted. He could sense Alfred's look of disapproval without even turning to look at him. Thomas smiled, placing two expertly-dispensed pints on the bar. Jimmy watched intently as Thomas poured the shandy and skilfully assembled the cocktail.

"On the house," Thomas said, "and we've got a good band on later, so stick around."

"I intend to," Jimmy grinned.


	2. The Lotus Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jimmy and Thomas get personal; a little too personal for Jimmy's liking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little smut, but only mild ;)

Jimmy tried to listen to Daisy, and he tried to laugh at Alfred's jokes, and he tried not flirt too badly with Ivy, but he just couldn't concentrate. His eyes kept unconsciously flicking over towards the bar, to the handsome silhouette of Thomas Barrow, and Jimmy found himself studying the spread of Thomas's shoulders, the broadness of his chest, the swell of his arms beneath his crisp, dark shirt. The club was busy now, every table was full and people lingered around the dance floor, waiting expectantly for the band to arrive.

"I hope the band starts soon," Ivy said, sipping her cocktail, "they're supposed to be very good."

A few minutes later the band did finally arrive, dragging a range of instruments onto the stage with them. The enigmatic lead singer took a microphone in hand, and introduced himself as Jack Ross.

"Hello and welcome!" He smiled, raising a cheer from the audience. "Let's get this party going. This one is for Rose." The rest of the band kicked in on cue, the song lively and practically demanding to be danced to, invisibly pulling patrons out of their seats and helplessly onto the dance floor.

"Oh let's dance!" Ivy pleaded, tugging on Daisy's arm. Daisy looked rather alarmed at the prospect.

"Only if Alfred comes too," she stuttered. Alfred grinned at being invited and swept both girls onto the dance floor.

"Don't mind me," Jimmy muttered, "I'll just sit here on my own." He gulped down the last of his pint, then helped himself to the dregs of Ivy's cocktail.

_"I've been waiting for the day when I can throw away these numbers that line my dresser drawers and cupboards,"_ Jack Ross sang, the drumbeat reverberating through Jimmy's chest, _"Start me over, life seems so much slower with your toothbrush by the mirror, can I make it any clearer?"_ Jimmy pictured his own toothbrush, alone by the sink in his tiny flat, and he suddenly felt pathetically lonely.

"Cheer up," Thomas said, plonking a full pint down in front of Jimmy; Jimmy very nearly fell out of his seat in surprise. Thomas flopped into the chair next to him, a glass of some amber-coloured liquid in his hand. "The band isn't that bad, surely?"

"No, they're good, really," Jimmy shook his head.

_"And I just might say it tonight,"_ Jack continued, the guitars rising for the chorus, _"I just might say it tonight, I just might tell you tonight, that I love you and you should stay all my life."_ Jack smiled meaningfully at the pretty, blonde backing singer in the red dress and Jimmy felt a deep stab of jealousy.

"Too good," Jimmy said, feeling rather maudlin.

Thomas raised an eyebrow. "Not dancing with your friends?" he said, nodding towards the lolloping frame of Alfred. "If you can call _that_ dancing."

"No," Jimmy said, "I'm not really in a dancing mood."

_"They'll tell you that you'll maybe make it if you just cut your clothes and change your hair,"_ Jack trilled, _"but I won't fuss and moan 'bout what you wear. I feel so much better when I read your dirty letters, just wear your sweaters in the winter 'cause I wouldn't want you to get cold."_

"What are you in the mood for then, Jimmy?" Thomas tipped his head back and downed his drink; Jimmy was awestruck at the sight of Thomas's pale neck. _I bet his skin would sing under my lips,_ Jimmy thought, to his dismay.

"I'm in the mood to get ridiculously drunk," Jimmy replied, "epically, stupendously sloshed."

"That can be arranged," Thomas grinned, getting out if his seat. He disappeared behind the bar and returned with a tall, thin bottle of something green and two shot glasses.

_"I hope that we're together when we're old. I would have sold all my possessions, never took piano lessons - but baby you're a grand and I will learn to play the good notes and tune you up the best I can,"_ Jack finished, before launching into the chorus once again. Jimmy wished the song would end.

"Jimmy, meet my friend absinthe," Thomas grinned, pouring out two shots.

"I thought you were working?" Jimmy took his shot and sniffed the green liquid - it smelled like aniseed. _This seems like a bad idea,_ he thought.

"I'm the manager," Thomas shrugged, "what's the point in that if I can't take a few liberties? Cheers," he clinked his glass against Jimmy's and necked the shot. Jimmy sighed and followed suit, the alcohol burning his throat.

"Bloody hell," Jimmy coughed, "that's something." Thomas licked his lips, the sight of his pink tongue sending blood right to Jimmy's crotch. The memory of bringing himself off in the toilet flashed through his mind, and Jimmy wanted, for the first time in his life, to kiss another man. _What the hell is wrong with me?_ he thought, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, _I'm not...like that? Am I? No. I'm not._

"I take it it's your first time?" Thomas asked, innocently.

"What?" Jimmy coughed, afraid he'd somehow said what he was thinking.

"The absinthe," Thomas said, refilling their glasses.

"Oh," Jimmy blushed, "yes. I'm afraid I'm not very...experienced." He balked, aware of how that had sounded. Thomas grinned, his eyebrows shooting up. "Not like that," Jimmy corrected, "well, that's not what I meant. But I suppose it's true," he confessed. _It must be the alcohol,_ Jimmy thought, _I'd never say things like that to a...stranger!_ He sipped gingerly at the absinthe, but it was worse that way, so he knocked back the shot, trying not to taste it.

"I'm surprised," Thomas said, "I'd've thought you could have had any woman you liked?"

"I don't really like any of them though," Jimmy sighed. His glass had rolled off under the table, so he settled for taking a swig directly from the bottle.

"Oh," Thomas said, his blue eyes wandering all over Jimmy. Jimmy suddenly felt rather hot, his collar tight and uncomfortable. "Neither do I."

"So," Jimmy struggled for small talk, "have you always been a club manager?"

"Nah," Thomas shook his head, "I'm a jack-of-all-trades, me." When Jimmy didn't say anything, he continued: "I've worked in pubs and restaurants and shops and that. Even tried to start my own business once. Didn't go very well though, lost most of my savings on that one, though it were my own fault." He shrugged, seemingly nonplussed. "But I like this job, I'm my own boss really, the owner Mr Crawley only checks in every now and again. And I got the flat upstairs as part of the deal."

"Sounds pretty good," Jimmy said, "better than making coffee for a living, at any rate."

"You don't like it much?" Thomas poured yet another drink; the bottle was almost empty and Jimmy was starting to feel light-headed.

"Pfft, no," Jimmy sneered, "it were hardly my childhood dream to be a barista."

"What was your dream?" Thomas asked, with genuine interest. Jimmy thought for a moment; _I never really had any dreams. Not really._

"Well, I love playing piano," he confessed, "have done since I were young, and I fancied myself as an actor for a bit."

"You've got the look for it," Thomas nodded and Jimmy grinned at the compliment.

"But," Jimmy sighed, shrugging, "both my parents died pretty sudden like, and I had to get a job, unless I fancied living on the streets."

"Oh," Thomas gripped Jimmy's knee, sending a wave of heat up Jimmy's thigh and right to his prick. "I'm sorry for that. I've no family to speak of either, none I'm close to at any rate."

"S'alright," Jimmy smiled and took a long, hard swig from the bottle of absinthe, draining the last of the fiery, green liquid. He gazed at the dance floor; the song had changed three or four times now, of but Alfred, Ivy and Daisy were still dancing. _Thanks for checking in on me guys,_ he thought glumly.

Thomas looked like he was about to say something, but he paused and took a packet of cigarettes from his trouser pocket instead. "I'm going out for a smoke," he said popping a cig into his mouth.

"I'll join you," Jimmy replied. He followed Thomas out onto the street, staggering a little. _I'm drunk,_ he thought, _and I could use the fresh air._ It was busy outside the club; there was a line of people waiting to get inside and a row of taxis idled in the rank, their lights casting an orange glow over the street. The pavement was wet, but the rain had cleared to reveal a black, cloudless sky. The stars were present but veiled by the light of the city, looking more like dying embers than distant raging suns. _Just like me,_ Jimmy thought, aware he was being melodramatic, _veiled and dying._ Thomas lit his cigarette with a worn silver zippo, leaning over to light Jimmy's smoke too when his own lighter refused to spark. Their fingers brushed for barely a second, but it was enough to reignite the stirring in Jimmy's prick.

"So," Thomas exhaled, smoke curling into the night, "you like the Lotus Club?"

"I do," Jimmy swayed a little on his feet, grasping Thomas's arm to steady himself, "s'nice." He looked right at Thomas, his cheeks were hollowed, his lips pursed around the cigarette. "S'very, very nice indeed."

Thomas looked abashed, a band of colour rising high on his cheeks. _You're stunning,_ Jimmy thought with total abandon. He dropped his unsmoked cig into the gutter, the urge to press his lips against Thomas's now unbearable. He leant in, cupping Thomas's face in his hands, placing a tentative kiss against his lips. Thomas stiffened in surprise, before deepening the kiss, his tongue dipping into Jimmy's mouth, his hips crashing against Jimmy's. Jimmy pressed his eyes shut, lost now to the moment, his fingers curled in Thomas's dark hair. They kissed intensely for a long moment and Jimmy, to his embarrassment, felt his cock harden. Thomas just pressed their bodies closer, his hands now firmly on Jimmy's back, his breath ragged against Jimmy's mouth. He grazed Jimmy's lips with his teeth, drawing a moan of pleasure from Jimmy's throat, and rubbed his palm slowly over Jimmy's tented trousers. Jimmy gasped, forcing himself not to thrust wantonly into Thomas's hand.

They finally fell apart, panting, to see Ivy, Daisy and Alfred staring at them, open-mouthed and disbelieving. Alfred's whole face was crimson and Ivy's bottom lip was trembling. Jimmy cringed - _if the floor wants to open up and swallow me whole,_ he thought, his head wooly, _now would be a great time._ Ivy turned and stomped away briskly, and Alfred followed her, calling "Ivy, wait!" at her back. Daisy just shrugged, then ran after them.

"Was that...bad timing?" Thomas asked, gently taking Jimmy's hand in his. Jimmy pulled away, his head spinning. "Don't be like that," Thomas said, "they don't matter. Not with all there is between us." He made to cup Jimmy's face between his hands, but Jimmy staggered back, confused.

"The only thing between us will be my fists, if you don't back off!" Jimmy spat, and he turned and ran, his feet slapping on the wet pavement, leaving Thomas helplessly staring after him.

It started to rain during the journey home, but Jimmy couldn't recall when exactly. His head was muddled, addled by alcohol and raw emotion, and it took him a while (and a few wary glances from passers-by) to realise he was sobbing heavily as he trudged through the lamp-lit streets. By the time he reached his front door he was red-eyed and sodden and thoroughly miserable. He undressed with cold, clumsy hands, leaving his wet clothes in a heap on his bedroom floor, and crawled into the safety of his bed. _I'll never sleep,_ Jimmy thought, _I can still taste him on my lips._ He pulled the duvet over his face, trying to push all thoughts out if his head. Finally, exhaustion and inebriation took over and Jimmy passed into a deep, dreamless sleep.

~

The buzzing of the alarm felt as if it would shear Jimmy's head in two; he groaned, rolling over and groggily hitting the 'off' button, his limbs aching. He dared to crack one eye open - the clock glowed 6:30am and Jimmy winced - _I have to be at work in one hour,_ he thought. For a few minutes, as Jimmy struggled to pull himself out of bed, he remembered nothing of the previous day. And then, as Jimmy picked up the damp clothes from the previous night, it all came crashing back. Everything, from meeting Thomas at Downton, to the work bathroom, to kissing him outside the Lotus, all tumbling into Jimmy's consciousness in an instant.

"Fuck," he said, dropping the clothes again, "oh bloody fucking hell." He ran to the bathroom, only just managing to fall to his knees in front of the toilet before throwing up, deep retches shaking his body. His hangover was monumental, but far worse than that was the memory of Alfred, Daisy and Ivy's faces as they'd caught him kissing Thomas. _And I have to work with these people in less than one hour,_ he thought. He considered calling in sick, but he was already in Mr Carson's bad books and he very much doubted that anyone would cover for him.

"There's nothing for it," he said aloud, steeling himself, "it's not like I can avoid them forever." Jimmy rose, a fresh wave of nausea washing over him, and studied himself in the bathroom mirror; if it was possible, he looked even worse than he felt. He pushed away all thoughts of the previous night, especially anything pertaining to Thomas or his perfect lips, and tried to get ready for work.

~

Jimmy ran most of the way to Downton Coffee Co., stopping only once to vomit in a dustbin, but he was still fifteen minutes late when he finally clocked in.

"Sorry I'm late Mr Carson," Jimmy mumbled, noting the disapproval on Carson's face.

"Mmph," Carson rumbled, "I expect no less from you James. Ivy's phoned in sick, so you'll have to help Daisy and Alfred serve today."

"Yes Mr Carson," Jimmy nodded. He wanted to ask if Ivy had said what was wrong with her, but thought better of it.

"I might have to impose a ban on staff outings," Carson continued, "if you are all going to turn up late and," he eyed Jimmy's awful appearance, "dishevelled."

"Sorry Mr Carson," Jimmy repeated, itching for the conversation to be over. Carson just shook his head and disappeared into the stock room. Jimmy realised Daisy and Alfred were staring at him, the silence thick. "Er, morning," Jimmy proffered. Alfred frowned and turned away, pretending to fiddle with the espresso machine.

"Jimmy," Daisy started, lining up cakes in the display cabinet, "are you...alright?"

"Yes," Jimmy said, "well no. Not really. Is Ivy awfully upset?"

"I think she's angry really," Daisy shrugged, "that you pretended to like her when you're, you know, gay." Jimmy's jaw dropped.

"I'm not gay!" he exclaimed, shaking his head emphatically.

"Then why exactly were y'kissin' a man then?" Daisy asked. Alfred stomped hurriedly into the storeroom, obviously not wanting to hear anymore of this particular conversation.

"I...I don't know," Jimmy threw his hands up, "I was very drunk, I didn't know what I was doing."

"Did he...take advantage of you then, seeing as you were drunk and all?" Daisy frowned, crossing her arms. _No,_ Jimmy thought, _I kissed him._

"Well...yes...I suppose he did," Jimmy lied, suddenly feeling rather sick again.

"Oh," Daisy walked around the counter and gave Jimmy a rueful hug. "You should report him or something, y'know?" Jimmy shook his head abruptly.

"No, I'd rather just forget it," he said, fighting back tears.

"If you say so," Daisy nodded. Mr Carson appeared from the stockroom, ending the conversation.

"I'm opening up," Mr Carson announced, "I hope you're ready."

_I don't think I'll ever be ready,_ Jimmy grimaced, _not for that. It's just too much._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Jack Ross sings in this Chapter is 'Might Tell You Tonight' by The Scissor Sisters.


	3. Mugged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JImmy attempts to date Ivy, but instead ends up in danger. Can anyone save him from himself?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: violence. Angst. Ahhh!

Alfred avoided talking to Jimmy for the rest of the day, but Jimmy counted that as a win, if anything. Daisy kept tilting her head and throwing him pitying looks, like he was the solitary survivor of some major tragedy, rather than a drunken misdemeanour. He had expected Thomas to show up at some point, under the pretence of buying coffee, and was rather disappointed when his shift finished and there had been no apology from Mr Barrow. By the end of the second day Jimmy was insulted that Thomas hadn’t dropped by, and by close on the third day – Saturday – he was equal parts angry and agitated.

Daisy had relayed his fabricated version of events to Ivy, who had also taken on the same mothering, cloying, sympathetic approach to Jimmy. It made work easy, as the two women fell over themselves to ‘help’ Jimmy and he often found himself at a loss for anything to do. Which was bad, because he invariable ended up smoking in the alley and thinking about the way Thomas’s hand had skimmed over his hard-on. Jimmy frowned and rubbed this thumb against his forehead, trying to relieve the tension that was building throughout his whole body. He knew, in his moments of truthfulness and reckless abandon, when he was alone and hidden in his bed, that the only _real_ relief came from taking himself in hand, muttering ‘Thomas’ and ‘god’ interchangeably into his pillow as he brought himself to climax.

“Jimmy?” Ivy interrupted his thoughts, her head peering around the back door into the alley.

“Yes?” Jimmy pushed himself away from the alley wall, taking a final drag on his dying cigarette.

“Daisy and Alfred and I...” she trailed off, her eyes betraying her uncertainty.

“You don’t have to invite me out if you don’t want to,” Jimmy sighed, not caring either way.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Ivy said, “I just…I don’t want things to be awkward between us. I’d like if we could just forget about it really.” Jimmy nodded, painfully aware that he would _never_ forget it. Even now he could smell Thomas’s cologne and feel how his teeth had teased at his lips. “And Daisy said we should, you know, do something together to clear the air,” she blushed, “because I still think you’re lovey Jimmy, now I know it were all just a misunderstanding and that _awful_ Mr Barrow were to blame.”

“Oh,” Jimmy gritted his teeth, then forced himself to smile, “of course. I’d just _love_ to take you out Ivy.”

“On a real date?” Ivy beamed. It was a bad idea, a terrible, _stupid_ idea, so of course Jimmy went with it.

“Yes,” he smiled, taking Ivy’s hand and dancing her down the alley. “A real, proper date, you and me. What do you say?”

“That’d be _lovely_ ,” she gushed. Jimmy fought the sudden urge to throw her into the dumpster and close the lid. “Tonight?”

“Tonight,” he smiled tightly, already regretting the decision.

~

‘The Date’ came far too quickly for Jimmy’s liking. Daisy was almost as excited about it as Ivy, but only because she had designs on Alfred. Alfred was, for his part, completely blind to Daisy’s tactless advances and fuming about Jimmy’s.

“You’re only doing it to get at me,” he snarled, “and for who knows what else.”

“Can’t see how it’s any of your business really,” Jimmy replied hotly. _He knows about me,_ Jimmy thought, _it seems like he knows. But there’s nothing to know. Is there, James Kent?_ He resolved to try and enjoy the night; a fumble with Ivy might not be so bad, if he was drunk and she didn’t talk too much. _Might even ‘fix’ me,_ he frowned.

“Well Daisy and me are coming too,” Alfred announced. Daisy dropped the cup she was carrying.

“On my date?” Jimmy balked, “Not bloody likely.”

“It could be a double-date, couldn’t it Alfred?” Daisy nudged.

“Yes,” Alfred said, staring Jimmy down, “if you like Daisy.”

“I’ll tell Ivy!” Daisy squeaked, rushing to the stockroom to find her.

“I suppose you’ll want to go back to the Lotus club?” Alfred snorted.

“As if,” Jimmy feigned disgust, “I’ll never set foot in that _den of iniquity_ again.”

~

After work Jimmy went home to change, agreeing to meet at the Grantham Arms at 8pm, but it was almost 8:45pm by the time he waltzed into the pub. He was in no particular rush and had spent almost an hour styling his hair and deciding what to wear. Although he had constantly reassured himself the grooming was for Ivy, or any other pretty girl he fancied charming that evening, he knew, in reality, it was for someone else. _Just in case I see him,_ Jimmy pouted, _not that I care. I just don’t want to look all forlorn and mopey over him. Because I’m definitely not moping, or pining or anything over Thomas Barrow._

“You’re late,” Alfred scowled, determined to remain miffed.

“Well good evening to you too, Alfred,” Jimmy rolled his eyes. “Ivy, let me get you another drink.” _And a quick shot of that absinthe stuff for me while I’m at the bar._

The group chatted and drank the evening away; it most certainly was _not_ a proper date, not by Jimmy’s standards anyway, but at least it was cheap. Ivy kept putting her hand on Jimmy’s arm or knee, in a blatant ( _and annoying_ ) attempt at flirting. Jimmy kept drinking so he didn’t have to think about it, until he decided to stumble outside for a cigarette. He was truly soused by this time – he’d been sneaking shots every time he went to the bar, downing them between pints of beer. To his dismay Ivy followed him outside.

“You should quit,” she said, shivering a little from the cold, “s’bad for you, y’know?” Jimmy shrugged, deciding that Thomas would never say something so stupid.

“I suppose,” he shrugged noncommittally. He pointed up into the clear, velvet blue of the sky at the full moon. “Look at th’ moon Ivy, it’s bright as a…lightbulb” he finished lamely, cringing.

“It’s so romantic,” Ivy cooed, moving closer and resting her head on Jimmy’s shoulder. Impulsively, Jimmy kissed Ivy on the cheek. She turned, catching his lips with her mouth, running a hand through his hair. Jimmy grimaced; it was akin to kissing the rag he used to clean tables at Downton Coffee Co., but he soldiered on, letting Ivy wrap herself around him, her arms like the fronds of some massive, cannibalistic plant. The whole experience was wholly _unsatisfying_ , especially when compared to the passion of the kiss he had shared with Thomas.  In a desperate, last-ditch attempt to feel, well, _anything_ , Jimmy slid his hand up Ivy’s thigh, imagining it was the thick, muscled leg of Thomas Barrow.

“Jimmy!” she screeched, pushing him away.

“What?” he slurred, steadying himself on the pub wall. “Come on, I’ve been buying y’drinks all night, s’not too much to ask.”

“You’re drunk,” Ivy shook her head, “and I’m not that kind of girl.”

“Not what I’ve heard,” Jimmy spat. Now Ivy was furious; she crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head.

“I’m going back inside,” she hissed, “and you better not follow me.”

Jimmy stood alone, angry at himself. Not that he cared one jot about upsetting Ivy, or what she might say to Alfred and Daisy; it’d probably do his reputation some good to be thought of as a red-blooded male. What he couldn’t fathom though was _why_ it had felt so repugnant to be kissing Ivy in the first place. He supposed she was attractive, if you didn’t look at her too closely, and she was nice enough, if a little whiny. It dawned on him, however, that he shouldn’t need to put in a concerted effort just to find someone sort-of attractive and that absolutely no effort had been needed when he had pressed his lip’s against Thomas’s. He closed his eyes and sucked his breath through his teeth, recalling the taste of Thomas, how his tongue had wandered lustfully into Thomas’s mouth, how his hard-on had throbbed at the brush of Thomas’s hand.

Of course. This was all Thomas’s fault.

Damn Thomas Barrow and his perfect eyes and his perfect arse and his perfect fucking lips. Jimmy’s anger rose, hot and indignant and _sure_ that Thomas had somehow caused all this, as if he was an insidious poison that had crawled into Jimmy’s mind and spoiled everyone else for him. Because the truth was that to Jimmy, no one else even came close.

Jimmy pushed away from the wall, his drunken feet driven by rage and determination. It was all Thomas’s fault and by the gods, Thomas was going to know about it.

~

Jimmy had sobered up some by the time he had walked to the Lotus club, but not enough to stop him charging up to the front of the queue and demanding to speak to Mr Barrow.

“You’re drunk and he’s working,” the doorman said flatly, “you’ll have to wait in line like everyone else.”

“Just tell him Jimmy is here to see him,” Jimmy folded his arms, “he’ll want to see me.” The doorman eyed Jimmy’s belligerent look and acquiesced.

“Fine. Wait here.” He ducked inside and Jimmy waited, tapping his foot irritably. The doorman reappeared: “Go on in” he said.

The club was packed – it was Saturday night in central London, every club, bar and pub was packed to the rafters with people desperate to drink their weekend away. Jimmy struggled through the crowd, his jaw tight with determination, looking for the familiar outline of Thomas. After a good five minutes Jimmy spotted him; he was leaning against the stage, chatting to a young man. Indignation and jealousy ran through Jimmy’s veins, his heartbeat echoing in his ears. He pushed across the dance floor until he was standing between Thomas and the inconsequential person he was talking to.

“Jimmy?” Thomas smiled, “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

“I need to talk to you,” Jimmy stared, taking in every detail of Thomas, from the cut of his dark suit to the concern in his light eyes.

“You’re drunk,” Thomas shook his head.

“Why d’people feel the need to keep pointing that out?” Jimmy sneered.

“Alright,” Thomas replied calmly, “what do you want to talk about?”

“You and me,” Jimmy stopped, shaking his head “I mean there is no you and me, alright? Not ever. I’m not like you. I’m not…lavender.” Thomas guffawed incredulously. “Shut up,” Jimmy spat, “s’not right and I’m not interested, alright?”

“Can I remind you that _you_ kissed _me_?” Thomas said casually, as if it were the least important event of his life.

“I…I was drunk and it doesn’t even count,” Jimmy floundered, “it didn’t even happen, as far as I’m concerned. That’s how much I don’t care about you, it, I mean it.”

“And you came all the way down here to tell me this?” Thomas mocked. “You could’ve just called.” He walked away, leaving Jimmy dumbfounded on the dance floor, his cheeks flushed with anger and embarrassment.

“I need a drink,” Jimmy sighed, turning to the bar. He ordered five shots of tequila and downed them all, relishing the burn in his throat and how the alcohol numbed his face. His phone buzzed in his pocket – he pulled it out to see five missed calls and three texts from Daisy:

_[22:45 Jimmy where are you? Daisy x]_

_[23:02 Jimmy? Are you alright? Ivy said what happened. Daisy x]_

_[23:29 We’re going home now, I hope you’re ok. Daisy x]_

“Fucking brilliant,” Jimmy seethed, “the only person who cares if I’m alive is Daisy fucking Mason.” He threw his phone down on the bar and attempted to buy another drink.

“Sorry,” the barman shrugged, “I’m cutting you off. Management said I’m not to give you any more alcohol.”

“Bloody Thomas bloody Barrow,” Jimmy muttered, “Fine, I’m goin’ anyway.” He stumbled drunkenly away, unaware he’d left his phone on the bar.

The cold night air hit Jimmy like a strong right hook, taking his breath and making his head spin. _I don’t feel so good_ , he thought, staggering away from the Lotus club and in the direction he was _almost positive_ led home. Realising he desperately needed to piss; Jimmy ducked into a nearby alley and wandered into the dark, looking for a quiet spot to relieve himself. He was about to unzip his fly when two men appeared, their faces concealed by their hoods. Jimmy froze, suddenly sobered by fear. They circled around Jimmy, blocking off his means of escape.

“Where do you think you’re going, m’laddo?” the first man said in a thick Yorkshire accent.

“Oh get out of my way,” Jimmy replied, holding his head up in false bravado. The man pushed Jimmy back, and he stumbled, his co-ordination shot.

“Give us your phone and your wallet,” the man menaced. Jimmy nodded, thrusting his hands into his pockets. His phone was gone and he only had a tenner in his wallet – he held it out and the man snatched it.

“That it?” he spat, “Where’s the rest?”

“I don’t have anything else,” Jimmy stammered, his heart rate rocketing. _They’re going to kill me,_ he thought, clearly and calmly. _I’m going to die in a dirty alleyway and nobody will even miss me_.

“Take him,” the man instructed and the second, larger man grabbed Jimmy, pinning his arms behind his back. Jimmy struggled, trying to pull away, but the first man aimed a punch right into Jimmy’s gut, doubling him over.

“Oi!” a voice echoed down the alleyway. Jimmy twisted his head up to see who was coming to his rescue: it was Thomas Barrow. “Let him go!” he said, his hands out in a placating gesture.

“And who’s goin’ to make me?” the first man snarled.

Thomas hesitated for barely a second. “I am,” he said, lunging at one of the assailants. He pulled Jimmy free and shoved him away, towards the entrance of the alley. “Run Jimmy!” he exclaimed, as the other man grabbed him, “I mean it! Run! Run!” Jimmy hesitated just long enough to see one of the robbers land a heavy blow on Thomas’s face.

Jimmy ran, the wind whipping his hair into his eyes, his legs pumping, until he reached the entrance of the Lotus club.

“You have to help me!” Jimmy exclaimed, panting, to anyone who would listen. “Please, someone!”

“What’s wrong?” the doorman asked, recognising Jimmy from earlier that night.

“It’s Thomas, you have to come, please!” Jimmy begged, feeling tears form behind his eyes. The doorman nodded, spurred on by the idea that his boss was in trouble, and followed Jimmy back to the alleyway. Jimmy’s head was pounding, his inebriation beginning to give way to the mother of all hangovers. The muggers were nowhere to been seen, but Thomas was slumped against the wall in a crumpled pile, his chin against his chest.

“Call an ambulance,” the doorman said, thrusting his phone into Jimmy’s hands. He knelt beside Thomas and lifted Thomas’s head up; his eyes fluttered open, his pale face streaked with dark red. Jimmy felt a rush of relief; Thomas was alive. Hurt, but alive.

“Is he alright?” Jimmy stuttered.

“He will be, if you call that ambulance,” the doorman snapped.

~

Jimmy practically begged the doorman, whose name he still didn’t know, to drive him to the hospital, only to wish he hadn’t. He loitered in accident and emergency for a good half hour, deciding whether he should ask about Thomas, or if he even wanted to. In the end, worry won over and Jimmy approached the desk. A young woman with red hair nearly as striking as Alfred’s was typing hurriedly on a computer – her name badge read ‘Gwen’.

“Err, excuse me?” Jimmy asked, nervously.

“Yes?” Gwen replied, not looking up from her screen.

“I just wondered if you could tell me about a patient, if he’s alright,” Jimmy felt his bottom lip quiver, “he came in an ambulance, it were an emergency. He were beaten up. It were my fault. He were protecting me.” Jimmy gushed. Gwen stopped typing and looked at Jimmy with concern.

“What’s his name ?” she asked.

“Thomas Barrow,” Jimmy said, wringing his hands. Gwen tapped a few keys and peered at the computer screen.

“Yes, he’s going to be fine, I think,” Gwen smiled, “he needs a few stitches and a little TLC, but he’ll be fine.”

“Thank god,” Jimmy said, his knees weak. “Thank god.”

“You can see him, if you like?” Gwen stood up, giving Jimmy a kindly look. “I’ll show you the way.” Gwen led him through the white double doors and onto the triage ward, consulting a dry-wipe board as she passed it. Jimmy noted ‘Thomas Barrow – M – 30’ was in cubicle twelve. “Here you go,” Gwen motioned towards a cubicle – the blue curtain was drawn around the bed, but according to the clipboard hanging on the wall Thomas was indeed inside.

Jimmy hesitated for a moment outside the cubicle, before slipping through a gap in the curtain. Thomas was sitting silently, his eyes closed; he looked simply awful, his face was littered with cuts and both his eyes were starting to blacken. _He did this for me,_ Jimmy thought, with a gasp. Thomas opened his eyes at the sound and seemed rather taken aback to see Jimmy standing in his cubicle.

“What are you doing here?” Thomas asked, the spilt in his bottom lip stretching painfully with each word.

“I just wanted to make sure there wasn’t too much harm done,” Jimmy replied meekly.

“Well, there was enough harm done,” Thomas pointed to the gash on his forehead, but he smiled in reassurance that it wasn’t too serious.

“You were brave,” Jimmy said, thrusting his hands into his pockets, “very brave.” Thomas shook his head, as if it was nothing to take a beating for stranger. “I feel badly, I shouldn’t have run off.”

“Oh you should have,” Thomas replied, shifting uncomfortably in the hospital bed, obviously in pain.  “Or what the bloody hell was I doing it for?”

“Were you following me?” Jimmy asked, wondering how Thomas had happened to be in the right place at the right time.

“I had to keep an eye out,” Thomas smiled, “I could see you’d had a bit to drink. So yes, yes I did follow you.”

“Why?” Jimmy frowned; he couldn’t imagine himself being so selfless as to follow a drunken friend around, let alone a man he barely knew.

“You know why,” Thomas said, clasping his hands together on his blanket. His fingers and arms were marred with a dozen or more tiny cuts and bruises. Jimmy hovered awkwardly for a beat, before sitting in the plastic chair beside Thomas’s bed.

“I can never give you what you want,” Jimmy said, his heart thumping. _I want to_ , he thought, _but I just can’t._

“I understand that,” Thomas sighed, “you’ve made that abundantly obvious. And I don’t ask for it. But I’d like it if we could be friends.”

“Right you are, Thomas,” Jimmy nodded, simultaneously relieved and disappointed that Thomas wasn’t going to pursue their relationship further. “If that’s all, I think I could manage that.”

“Thank you, Jimmy,” Thomas smiled with such earnest it made Jimmy’s chest ache. _He’s thanking **me** ,_ Jimmy thought, _after he just saved my life._ “Make yourself useful or something,” Thomas grinned, “and get me a cup of tea, I’m parched.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beating and hospital scenes were, obviously, heavily inspired by Downton Abbey S03 Christmas Special (2012).


	4. Friends with Benefits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jimmy finds being friends with Thomas really does have its benefits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, SMUT. But fluffy smut. Enjoy!

Friendship came easier than Jimmy imagined it would. It was, understandably, awkward at first – forced almost – and Jimmy felt he was doing it out of guilt or obligation, rather than any real want to be friends. But then Jimmy had never _wanted_ to be friends with anyone before; he found most people tolerable, at best. But the more time he spent in Thomas’s company, the more he enjoyed it, until he began to feel a void deep in his stomach whenever they were apart. Thomas had recovered well from the beating; his face still bore faint scars, but they were fading and didn’t threaten to leave any permanent damage. Even so, Jimmy’s stomach still bottomed out when he remembered how Thomas had saved him, with barely a seconds hesitation, and how he had looked slumped in that alleyway with his face bloodied. Jimmy had talked at length of Thomas’s bravery to anyone who would listen; truth be told, he was overwhelmed by the enormity of it.

After blanking Jimmy for a few days, Ivy had finally relented and forgiven Jimmy for his ‘transgression’, emphasising the idea they should stay ‘just friends’ as their attempts at anything more had all ended disastrously. Alfred still shot him unpleasant looks from time to time – especially when Thomas started dropping by Downton Coffee Co. on a daily basis for coffee and a chat with Jimmy. Jimmy’s heart still thumped wildly whenever Thomas’s familiar figure appeared in the doorway, a newspaper under his arm or a shopping bag hanging from his fingers. Some days, if Carson wasn’t watching him like a hawk ready to descend on an unwary rabbit, Jimmy would sneak out for ten minutes to smoke in the alleyway with Thomas; he savoured these moments, when Thomas and he were alone and unguarded. Jimmy just watched, revelling in all the little details that made up Thomas Barrow; the way his cheeks hollowed as he sucked on a cigarette, the way he rolled his eyes and teased, the way his black hair fell over his brow, the rise and fall of his chest and the curve of his arse. Jimmy committed every nuance to memory, destined to be recalled later under the cover of dark and the secrecy of sheets, when Jimmy would take his erection in hand and lose himself.

And as much as Jimmy tried to show restraint, he found his feet automatically dragged him to the Lotus Club every evening after work, even if it was just to lean against the bar and watch Thomas bark orders at the staff. On the quiet nights they would retire to Thomas’s small office with a bottle or two of wine and play cards. Or just talk. It didn’t matter to Jimmy what they did, if they did it together.

Three weeks after the night of ‘the beating,’ Jimmy finally had a day off; a whole day, full of untold possibilities and innumerable options. So, of course, Jimmy found himself outside the Lotus club. At ten in the morning. Unsurprisingly it was closed, the front entrance locked and bolted. Jimmy knew Thomas had a flat above the club, but he’d never been up there and had no idea how to get to it. He snooped around the side of the building and found an unassuming green door with a brass plaque declaring it was number 72a. Jimmy’s finger hovered above the doorbell – he hadn’t been invited and there was something dangerously intimate about going to Thomas’s home. _Oh to hell with it_ , Jimmy thought, and pressed the doorbell hard, twice, for good measure. There was silence for a long moment, then the sound of someone descending stairs quickly. Thomas threw open the door; he was in his pyjamas, a dressing gown pulled around his body, his hair in disarray. Jimmy gaped and decided even if he didn’t get to spend the day with Thomas it had been worth the trip just to see him in this state of undress.

“Jimmy?” Thomas said, sweeping his hair out of his face. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve got the day off,” Jimmy smiled, “and I just wondered if you wanted to, I dunno, do something?”

“Oh,” Thomas looked surprised, but he returned Jimmy’s smile. “Well you better come in then.” He moved aside to let Jimmy into the small hallway, closing the door behind them.

“I didn’t wake you up did I?” Jimmy asked, following Thomas up the stairs to his flat.

“No,” Thomas replied, “I was just having a lazy morning. My job means I keep late hours.”

The staircase opened out into a surprisingly spacious open-plan kitchen and lounge; it was simply decorated and rather more uncluttered than Jimmy’s own flat. Jimmy’s eye was immediately drawn to the familiar shape of a small, upright piano that was pushed against one wall and was being used as a bookshelf.

“You’ve got a piano?” Jimmy exclaimed, touching a few keys. They were dusty but the piano sounded in tune. “Do you play?”

“I don’t play,” Thomas said, putting the kettle on, “it belongs to the owner – I think it was his mother’s or something and he just wanted a place to store it.”

“Can I…do you mind?” Jimmy asked, sitting on the creaky stool.

Thomas shrugged; “Be my guest.” Jimmy hadn’t played since his parents had died and he’d sold their piano to pay for food; he was rusty and self-conscious, but the desire to play the instrument he loved was greater than his trepidation. He paused, deciding on something simple, before tapping out the opening bars of ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love.’ The piano had a warm, deep tone – it must have been expensive in its time.

Without thinking, Jimmy started to sing, his voice clear and even: _“Wise men say only fools rush in – but I can’t help falling in love with you. Shall I stay? Would it be a sin? If I can’t help falling in love with you.”_ Thomas stopped, dropping the spoon he was holding into a cup with a clatter. He moved to stand beside Jimmy, studying his face as he sang.

 _“Like a river flows, surely to the sea; darling so it goes, some things are meant to be. Take my hand, take my whole life too, ‘cuz I can’t help falling in love with you.”_ Jimmy played the closing bars, his cheeks warm with a blush. He looked up at Thomas through his eyelashes, waiting for him to speak.

“That was…” Thomas shook his head, lost for words.

“I haven’t played in ages,” Jimmy’s head dropped, his eyes downcast so as to hide his disappointment. “It were probably awful,”

“It was _beautiful_ ,” Thomas said, his voice low. “You never said you can sing too.”

“I don’t think it’s worth mentioning,” Jimmy shrugged, but he couldn’t keep himself from beaming at Thomas’s praise.

“Well it is,” Thomas said firmly, “you shouldn’t be working in a coffee shop when you can do _that_.”

“That means a lot to me,” Jimmy blushed, running his fingers lightly over the keys, “that you think that. Your opinion means a lot to me.” Thomas swallowed hard - the tension in the room was palpable. “Because, you know, you work in a club and you hear a lot of bands and stuff,” Jimmy explained quickly.

“Of course,” Thomas replied. Jimmy might have imagined it, but he sounded a little disappointed. “I better go and get dressed,” Thomas added, “and we can go out for lunch.” Thomas disappeared behind a door that Jimmy guessed led to his bedroom, before reappearing briefly. “And you’re welcome to come over and practice on that anytime you like,” he smiled. “I mean it.”

~

If truth be told, Jimmy couldn’t really afford to go out for lunch. His wage, even from working seven days a week, barely covered his rent and bills, with only a little left over for non-essentials. And as Jimmy had spent a lot of time hanging around the Lotus club, he’d spent a fair amount on drinks, despite all the free beers Thomas provided. He eyed the menu nervously; the restaurant was more up-market than he’d ever choose.

“Can I get you some drinks?” the waitress asked, her pen hovering over a blank order pad.

“We’ll have a bottle of the Rioja Reserva,” Thomas said confidently. Jimmy scanned the drinks menu – it was thirty-five pounds a bottle.

“Very good sir,” the waitress smiled, retreating.

“Thomas, I, ah…” Jimmy was embarrassed to admit he didn’t even _have_ thirty-five pounds.

“My treat,” Thomas shrugged, “don’t worry about it.”

“I need a better job,” Jimmy pouted, “or at least a better paid job.”

“Yes,” Thomas nodded, “I’ve actually been thinking about that myself. I have a business proposition for you.” Thomas paused as the waitress returned with their wine. Jimmy watched as she decanted a small amount into a glass for Thomas to taste; he sipped the wine and nodded approvingly. Jimmy had never really understood that whole ‘tasting’ the wine business – what was he even supposed to be checking, that it was still wine and hadn’t mysteriously transformed into Ribena?

“A business proposition?” Jimmy prompted, swigging his wine. It was good, if a little strong. Not that Jimmy knew much of fine wine.

“Yes, I’ve been thinking about it for a while, but hearing you play the piano today sealed the deal, so to speak,” Thomas refilled Jimmy’s glass. “I want you to come and work at the Lotus club. You can play piano in the daytime and help me manage the place in the evenings. I need someone I can rely on and seeing as you spend so much time loitering in the club anyway, I figured you might as well get paid for it.”

“Wow,” Jimmy blinked, shocked. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to agree to anything yet,” Thomas shrugged, “I’m just asking you to think it over.”

“And you want me to play? In front of people?” Jimmy pulled a face.

Thomas laughed, “Well yes, that’s the idea. If you want to, I mean. I know you love playing and you really are good at it.”

“Thank you,” Jimmy blushed, his cheeks hot from the wine. “I’d love to come and work for you.”

“That settles it then!” Thomas smiled earnestly, his eyes bright. “Dinner is on me, no arguing. We deserve to celebrate.”

“I can’t wait to see the look on Carson’s face when I hand in my notice!” Jimmy mused, “it’ll almost make up for all the grief he’s given me over the last year!”

~

“What do you mean you’re leaving?” Ivy whined, obviously distressed at the news.

“I’ve got another job,” Jimmy grinned smugly, “a better paid job.”

“Doing what?” Alfred asked, his arms folded, “I didn’t think you _could_ do anything else.”

“Playing piano, for actual, real people,” Jimmy replied, ignoring the bitterness in Alfred’s question. _He’s just jealous,_ Jimmy thought. “And a little work helping to manage the club, that sort of thing.”

“Not the _Lotus Club_?” Ivy exclaimed, her eyes wide.

“Well, yes,” Jimmy shrugged, “Thomas offered me a job.”

“Won’t that be awkward?” Ivy asked.

“I bet he’s after a lot more than just piano playing,” Alfred added, his voice thick with insinuation.

“Get out of it,” Jimmy shook his head, “we’re just mates now and it’s all forgotten.”

“If you say so,” Alfred sulked.

“Don’t you listen to them Jimmy,” Daisy patted Jimmy on the shoulder. “I’m happy for you, I am. Even if I will miss you. We’ll all miss you, won’t we?” Daisy shot Ivy and Alfred a look, her voice firm.

“Of course we will,” Ivy smiled tightly. Alfred nodded.

“It’s hardly the boondocks,” Jimmy laughed, “you can come visit me. And I’ll still drop in for coffee, if only for the pleasure of ordering Alfred around.”

“Oi!” Alfred frowned, indignantly. Daisy and Ivy gigged.

“Carson isn’t making me work out my notice, so tomorrow will be my last day,” Jimmy said. He was excited and nervous, but relishing the idea of spending his days with Thomas. _Getting paid to spend my days with my friend,_ Jimmy thought, _does it get much better?_

“And here’s your new boss now,” Alfred pointed towards the door as Thomas entered.

“Afternoon,” he nodded to the assembled staff, “quiet day, is it?”

“Thomas,” Jimmy said, unable to stop his mouth from stretching into a beaming smile, “hello.” Thomas grinned back and Jimmy noticed _that_ look in his eyes, a look somewhere between affection and desire. The ‘kissing incident’ might well be behind them and they could declare they were just ‘friends’ as much as they liked, but it was obvious that Thomas was still attracted to Jimmy. Jimmy found he didn’t mind it; if he was honest with himself, which Jimmy found he increasingly was, he actually liked the thought of Thomas wanting him. 

“Can I get you a coffee?” Daisy smiled earnestly.

“Ah, no,” Thomas replied, “I just wanted a quick word with Jimmy.”

“You’re already stealing him away,” Ivy joked, “you can’t have him yet Mr Barrow.”

“Is Jimmy really going to play piano and… _sing_?” Alfred asked, obviously unconvinced of Jimmy’s talents.

“Yes, he is. He’s rather good you know,” Thomas said brightly, “haven’t you ever heard him?”

“No,” Daisy said, “but I’d love to.”

“Then you should all come to the Lotus on Thursday,” Thomas nodded, “Jimmy is going to open for our band.” Jimmy gaped; it was the first he’d heard of it. “I’ll put you all on the guest list.” Thomas finished.

“Oooh I can’t wait!” Daisy cooed. Ivy nodded in agreement. Jimmy pulled Thomas to one side as casually as he could manage.

“What?” Jimmy said, his eyes wide, “Are you serious?”

“Yes of course,” Thomas replied. “That ginger lad was implying that you couldn’t do it. We can’t have the girls thinking that, can we?”

“Well no,” Jimmy smirked in approval, “but I’ve not practised or even planned anything to play. You’re not giving me much time to prepare.”

“You best come round to mine tonight then,” Thomas shrugged, “I’ll be working for a few hours, but you can practise in the flat.”

~

Jimmy was secretly very pleased to be allowed in Thomas’s flat while Thomas was busy working – it spoke volumes for the easy friendship that had grown between them. Jimmy found himself oddly at ease on Thomas’s sofa or making a drink in Thomas’s kitchen. He felt more at home than he did in his own meagre accommodation, that much was certain. He loitered, idly watching telly and drinking endless cups of tea, procrastinating and putting off the task at hand. Truth be told, he was ludicrously nervous about the whole thing – not so much playing in front of a crowd, but rather the thought of messing it up and having Thomas angry at him. Or worse, disappointed in him. Sighing, he plonked himself down at the piano and played a few scales as way of a warm up. He stared at the keys blankly, every song he’d ever learnt instantaneously vanishing from his head. He flicked absently thought the books and loose-leaf sheet music he’d brought with him, hoping for some inspiration, but nothing stood out. He hammered the keys and sang tunelessly, annoyed with himself.

 _“I’m Jimmy and I’m supposed to be musical,”_ he spat, _“but I can't think of a bloody thing to play. I’m sure my new boss is going to fire me and I haven’t even worked a ruddy day!”_

“I don’t know about that,” Thomas said, leaning against the doorframe, “if the musician thing doesn’t work out I think you’d do alright as a comedian.”

“How much did you hear?” Jimmy groaned, embarrassed.

“All of it,” Thomas chuckled, lighting a cigarette. He offered one to Jimmy, who gladly accepted. “I see you’re having a productive evening?”

“Not really,” Jimmy shook his head, “I just…I don’t know. I’m not good enough for this.”

Thomas rolled his eyes, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the room. “Well I’m not going to pander to your ego all night. But I’ll say this – I wouldn’t have hired you if I didn’t think you could do it.”

Jimmy shrugged, inwardly pleased that Thomas had so much confidence in him.

“I’ll pour us some wine,” Thomas sighed, “but you don’t get a drink until you’ve played me a song.” When Jimmy paused, his hands hovering over the keys, Thomas moved to stand beside him, plonking a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder. “Play me one of your favourite songs,” he directed.

“Alright, fine,” Jimmy acquiesced and effortlessly ran his fingers over the ivories, playing the opening notes to ‘First Day of my Life’ from memory.

 _“This is the first day of my life, swear I was born right in the doorway,”_ he sang, glancing up at Thomas through his lashes, _“I went out in the rain suddenly everything changed, they're spreading blankets on the beach. Yours is the first face that I saw, I think I was blind before I met you. Now I don't know where I am, I don't know where I've been, but I know where I want to go.”_  
  
“And so I thought I'd let you know, that these things take forever - I especially am slow. But I realize that I need you and I wondered if I could come home?” Jimmy trailed off, suddenly very aware of the weight of Thomas’s hand on his shoulder and the proximity of his body. Jimmy could smell Thomas’s cologne, mingled with cigarette smoke.

“That was perfect,” Thomas smiled tightly, that look of hunger in his eyes. He downed his glass of red in one swallow. Jimmy took a large gulp, quite unable to form a coherent thought, suddenly overwhelmed with the need to get drunk.

“Do you have to go back downstairs, to the club?” Jimmy asked, stretching. Thomas flopped on the sofa, his feet up on the coffee table.

“Nah, its quiet,” Thomas glugged more wine into his glass then offered it to Jimmy. He moved to the sofa, accepting the top up. “Unless you’re trying to get rid of me?”

“Course not,” Jimmy grinned, “I was hoping you’d stay for a drink. Or several drinks.”

“Well when you put it like that,” Thomas raised his eyebrows, “how could I resist?”

They chatted effortlessly, sharing stories of their pasts and sucessfully emptying two bottles of wine. Jimmy felt the glow of inebriation spread through his body, slowing histhoughts and movements.

“Y’know,” Jimmy slurred, “I’m real grateful, for the job and all.”

“S’alright,” Thomas beamed. A band of pink had formed across his porcelain face and he leaned in closer than usual when he talked, gesturing wildly. He was clearly rather sloshed. Jimmy smiled at Thomas's relaxed and jovial manner, decisind he _liked_ drunk Thomas. “I wanted you to come and work here, god knows you’re too good for that coffee shop. You’ve got real talent, y’know?”

“Thanks,” Jimmy blushed, “the way you talk about me you’d think I’d hung the moon or somethin’.”

“Not jus’ the moon,” Thomas sighed, “but every star an’ all, Jimmy Kent.” He looked away, worried he’d crossed a line. Jimmy just stared, open mouthed, unable to comprehend how _anyone_ could think so highly of him. Especially wonderful, brave, clever, handsome _Thomas_.

“Thomas,” Jimmy said, “look at me Thomas.”  Thomas turned slowly, his eyes worried. Whether it was the alcohol or just the moment Jimmy couldn’t tell, but he wanted to touch the pale skin of Thomas’s cheek; he wanted to run his tongue over Thomas’s lips and taste him. Jimmy closed his eyes, as if it wouldn’t matter, it wouldn’t _count_ if he couldn’t see what he was doing. He leaned in, his hand finding its way to Thomas’s cheek, his lips brushing Thomas’s in a ghost of a kiss. Thomas gasped, the sound so lovely to Jimmy that he found he simply couldn’t resist kissing Thomas, their lips crashing together desperately.  He tasted like berries and tobacco. Thomas wound his arms around Jimmy, pulling them together, his tongue in Jimmy’s mouth.

“Thomas,” Jimmy groaned aginast his lips, “oh, don’t _stop_.”

“Jimmy, Jimmy, _Jimmy_ ,” Thomas said, repeating his name like a prayer. He fell back on the sofa, pulling Jimmy down on top of him, his fingers winding into Jimmy’s hair. They kissed slowly, exploring mouths with tongues and teeth. Jimmy tugged at Thomas’s shirt, popping open the buttons and exposing his chest. He marvelled at the sight, running his fingers through the light layer of hair on his chest and stomach, trailing his thumb down to where the hair disappeared beneath Thomas’s waistband. Thomas pulled Jimmy’s t-shirt over his head and dropped it on the floor, looking very pleased at Jimmy’s taut chest and abs. His fingers played over Jimmy’s skin, tracing the curves of the muscles, before grabbing at Jimmy’s back and pressing their naked chests together.

“Thomas, touch me,” Jimmy stammered, his hands in Thomas’s hair, “please, I need you to touch me.” Thomas levelled Jimmy with a sceptical look, clearly worried that Jimmy would react badly.

“Are y’sure?” Thomas said breathlessly. Jimmy nodded; his cock was already hard and pressing insistently into Thomas’s hip. He’d thought and dreamed about this, about Thomas’s hands all over him, but the dreams were merely a hollow shadow compared to the reality. Thomas held Jimmy’s shoulders and rolled them both over and off the sofa; they landed on the floor with bump, Jimmy trapped beneath Thomas. He eased Jimmy out of his jeans and boxers, his eyes dark, his own hard-on now straining against his suit trousers. Jimmy felt very exposed, naked on Thomas’s floor, so he yanked at Thomas’s belt firmly, demanding for Thomas to be in an equal state of undress. Thomas obliged and Jimmy couldn’t help but stare at his impressive manhood.

“I’m going to touch you now,” Thomas whispered, his lips on Jimmy’s neck, “an’ you’re going to tell me if it’s good.”

“Mmmmph,” Jimmy groaned, bucking his hips upwards to meet Thomas’s, desperate for friction. Thomas wrapped a deft hand around Jimmy’s erection, dragging his fingers over the sensitive skin - Jimmy let out a strangled cry, his whole body shuddering. Thomas ran his tongue over Jimmy’s chest, teasing his nipples to points before crashing their lips together again. His tongue dipped into Jimmy’s mouth and Jimmy eagerly pressed his own tongue up to meet it as Thomas continued to work Jimmy’s cock, his firm and quick rhythm bringing Jimmy close to collapse.

“Do you like that, Jimmy?” Thomas teased, the wet end of his hard-on sliding against Jimmy’s stomach. Jimmy nodded, but Thomas paused, waiting for Jimmy to vocalise his approval.

“Yes, oh god Thomas, it’s so good,” Jimmy panted, the cessation of his touch maddening. “I need it, I need _you_ ,” he begged, wrapping his thighs around Thomas’s waist. Thomas kissed Jimmy deeply, grasping Jimmy’s cock harder and working at an unforgiving pace. Jimmy writhed and rocked his hips, his body pinned by Thomas, feeling himself on the edge of coming completely undone. “Thomas, I’m going to,” Jimmy started, but Thomas silenced him with a kiss.

Jimmy couldn’t breathe, his body hanging on the point of no return for a long moment before he finally came, harder and more satisfyingly than he ever had before. His stomach muscles worked and his seed spilled endlessly over Thomas’s hand, dripping in rivulets from Thomas’s long fingers, until his body was utterly spent. He lay still and silent, his head spinning, unable to recover from the intensity of his orgasm, till the gentle rubbing of Thomas’s hand against his chest brought him back to reality.

“Alright?” Thomas said with a raised eyebrow. He picked up his discarded shirt, using it to wipe the mess from his hand, and Jimmy blushed, abashed. Thomas smiled softly and kissed Jimmy’s jaw; Jimmy clung to Thomas’s still-naked body, suddenly afraid and overwhelmed and overjoyed all at once.

“I don’t know,” Jimmy said, then noticing Thomas’s crestfallen expression, “I mean that was, _amazing_ , you’re amazing. I just…I’ve never done that before. With a man. With…anyone.” Jimmy admitted. “I’m a little stunned. And drunk.”

“Oh,” Thomas said flatly, “it’s alright.” He stroked Jimmy’s hair, his expression so full of affection and concern that it made Jimmy want to cry. “We didn’t have to, you know.”

“No, I wanted you to, I did,” Jimmy replied, “I just,” – he stared pointedly at Thomas’s still-present arousal – “I don’t, I can’t…” – he shook his head, ashamed at his own ineptitude. He gathered it was considered rather a poor show to leave the other party so wholly unsatisfied.

“You don’t have to,” Thomas smiled, “I didn’t do it so you’d return the favour.”

He sat back on his knees and took himself in hand. Jimmy watched, equally delighted and mortified, as Thomas brought himself off, his eyes on Jimmy’s naked body. Jimmy stretched his arms above his head, pulling himself into a pose for Thomas’s benefit, blushing a deep crimson as Thomas came with a loud groan, his semen dripping onto Jimmy’s thighs. It was the singularly most erotic experience of Jimmy’s life; he wondered how anything could top the sight of Thomas’s face awash with pleasure, his mouth open, his eyes on Jimmy’s as he came. Thomas collapsed on to Jimmy, his chest heaving, utterly spent. Jimmy ran his fingers up and down the older man’s spine, smiling at the shiver of pleasure that worked over Thomas’s skin.

“You’re bloody beautiful, you are,” Thomas said into Jimmy’s neck. “I thought it the first time I saw you at Downton, and I think it even more now I know you.”

“I’d never fancied a man until you,” Jimmy smirked, still giddy from the wine and his orgasm. “I didn’t think I was that way inclined.”

“But you’ve never been with a woman?” Thomas asked.

“I’ve kissed and that, but it were never much fun,” Jimmy admitted. “It were never like _that_ , at any rate.” He shook his head, distressed; “I don’t know what I’m about.”

“S’alright,” Thomas soothed, “you don’t have to label yourself. Let’s go to bed – I’m too old for the floor.”

Jimmy allowed himself to be led to Thomas’s bedroom, picking up his clothes on the way. It was comfortable and warm, and the large double bed was incredibly inviting – Jimmy threw himself down on top of the covers, right in the middle of the fluffy duvet. Thomas lay down beside him and Jimmy curled against his body, taking pleasure in the feeling of skin-on-skin. Drunk, exhausted and oddly contented, Jimmy rested his head on Thomas’s chest and let himself be lulled to sleep by the reassuring beat of Thomas’s heart.


	5. What a Performance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jimmy really needs to come to terms with himself, Thomas and coming out of the closet. The night of his début at the Lotus is a bit of a performance, in more ways than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm SO SORRY it's been ages since the last update. Writers block + distraction + procrastination = aggghhgghh. But here it is, for what it's worth.

Jimmy woke with his body pressed against Thomas from his chest to his feet, the duvet wrapped around them both, a sliver of sunlight breaking in to the bedroom through an inch-wide gap in the heavy curtains. His head ached and the red wine from the previous evening had curdled uncomfortably in his stomach - hangovers seemed to be a common occurrence since he’d met Thomas.

“Morning Jimmy,” Thomas croaked, rolling over to face him. Thomas’s bed hair was spectacular, with tufts sticking up at all angles, and his grey eyes were scrunched up against the invading sunlight.

“Morning,” Jimmy replied nervously; he didn’t have a clue what was going to happen between him and Thomas now, if they would still be friends, or…or if Thomas wanted more. _It would serve me right if he kicked me out and never wanted to see me again. I’ve been an idiot_. Anything relationship-related was new territory for Jimmy – he was woefully inexperienced in matters of romance. And sex. And, to be honest, any sort of human interaction.

“You’re still here,” Thomas smiled warmly, “part of me expected to wake up and find you’d disappeared in the night.”

“I’ll admit I considered it,” Jimmy said, suddenly very alert to the fact they were both naked. “I…I don’t know what I’m doing Thomas.”

“You did alright last night,” Thomas replied, his hands finding Jimmy’s waist, his lips brushing against Jimmy’s. Jimmy closed his eyes and leaned into Thomas’s touch. If he didn’t worry about later, or think about all the possible ways he could phenomenally fuck everything up, or consider what his friends would say ( _oh, Ivy will be livid,_ he thought) - if he just stopped his brain from wandering away and based his reaction purely on this moment, this bubble where only Jimmy and Thomas and the bed existed, Jimmy realised he was happy. Perfectly happy. A little hung-over, but _happy_.

“Thomas, I’m sorry,” Jimmy said, overcome with the need to apologise for his past behaviour.

“What for?” Thomas said, frowning. “Oh – are you going to tell me you’re definitely not gay again?” Thomas pulled away, reaching for an ashtray and a packet of cigarettes on his bedside table. He stuck a smoke between his red lips and lit it with a disposable lighter, propping himself up in the bed. The duvet lay across his lap, exposing his finely-haired chest and stomach. “Because, you know, I never get tired of hearing that.”

“No, I didn’t mean that,” Jimmy shook his head and pulled himself into a sitting position, clinging to his corner of the duvet. “I’m sorry for being…stupid. And blind. I – I just didn’t want to deal with it – with being attracted to you. To men I mean. Well, it’s only been you to be honest but I don’t know. I’ve not really tried it with anyone else.” Jimmy trailed off, scowling at the bemused look on Thomas’s face.

“You do ramble on you know,” Thomas said with a laugh. He passed his cigarette to Jimmy, who accepted it with a glare. “And you think too much.”

“I just don’t want to disappoint you,” Jimmy pouted, inhaling deeply on the cig.

“Then don’t,” Thomas shrugged with feigned nonchalance. “There’s no need to have an existential crisis over sex.”

Jimmy gaped. “So it’s just sex, is it?”

“Jimmy,” Thomas sighed, “relax.” He draped an arm around Jimmy’s shoulders, pulling the younger man into a warm embrace. “It’s never been about just sex with you, alright? I’ve had my share of one night stands but - but it’s different with you,” he plucked the cigarette from Jimmy’s mouth and placed it in his own. “I’d never have gone to so much trouble just to get you into bed you know.” Thomas grinned and Jimmy couldn’t help but laugh.

“Alright,” Jimmy nodded with false bravado; truth was, he could have cried with relief. It seemed, despite his best efforts, he was romantically attached to Thomas bloody Barrow. Besotted even. He couldn’t say it was love, not yet, but for the first time in his life he felt it could go that way, given time. Not that Jimmy could claim to know anything about love – he’d certainly never been in love with anyone except himself, and even that was affair was on the rocks.

“I’m going for a shower,” Thomas said, stubbing out his cigarette. He walked across the room completely naked, treating Jimmy to the sight of his deliciously curved arse; Jimmy’s cock started to harden in appreciation of Thomas’s physique. He stopped and threw Jimmy a coquettish look over his shoulder. “Well are you going to join me or not?”

Jimmy nodded perhaps a little too enthusiastically in reply and Thomas laughed aloud.

“And you’re definitely not gay?” Thomas teased – Jimmy threw a pillow, but it missed the mark and hit the wall about a foot away from Thomas’s smug face.

~

Thomas’s bathroom was a tiled-from-floor-to-ceiling affair with a pristine white suite and a large walk-in shower. The shower was running and the room was already filled with steam by the time Jimmy had pulled on his boxer shorts and followed Thomas down the short hallway and into the bathroom. Thomas stretched languorously and Jimmy’s breath hitched in his chest at the way Thomas’s muscles moved, at the line of his back and how Thomas’s prick stirred under Jimmy’s inspection. Thomas walked into the shower, the steaming water cascading over his body, and Jimmy wondered how his past choices had led to this moment.

As Jimmy pulled off his boxers and climbed into the shower with Thomas, only one thought stood out amid his growing arousal; clearly he needed to rethink the whole ‘not gay’ thing. But now, what he really needed, was to press his body up against Thomas’s and let himself be loved.

~

Thursday, the day of Jimmy’s first performance at the Lotus, came around quickly - more quickly than Jimmy would have liked. His nerves gnawed deep in his stomach and he found himself quite unable to eat the bacon sandwich Thomas had cooked up for breakfast.

“You should eat something,” Thomas said, a cigarette hanging from between his lips. He had yet to shower, his hair dishevelled, a post-coital blush still evident on his cheeks.

“That’s rich, coming from a man who only ever has coffee and nicotine for breakfast,” Jimmy retorted, pulling Thomas’s oversized plaid dressing gown around himself.

“Nervous, are we?” Thomas smirked. “It’d probably help if you decided what you are going to play tonight.”

“I have decided,” Jimmy lied, “and I’m not nervous.”

“Have it your way,” Thomas sighed. “Just remember your friends will be coming along.

Jimmy pulled a face. “They’re not really my friends. More like ex-colleagues.”

“Then,” Thomas paused, flicking ash from the tip of his cigarette, “why do you care so much what they think of you? No, not what they think of you, more like what they think of _us_.”

“I don’t care,” Jimmy pouted and got up from the table. “I just like my privacy, s’all.”

“So you’ll tell them about us, will you?” Thomas raised his eyebrows sceptically.

“Well, uh,” Jimmy faltered and Thomas gave a resigned sigh. “No, I will, of course I will. If it means so much to you.” He crossed his arms; “Though I hardly see why you care what Ivy and Daisy and bloody Alfred think.”

“I don’t,” Thomas replied. “That’s not the point, and you know it.”

“Well neither do I,” Jimmy insisted.

“Hmm,” Thomas blew a plume of smoke across the room, his mouth pulled into a distasteful smile, “we’ll see.”

~

Jimmy was due on stage in one hour. He paced the floor of Thomas’s flat, nervously fiddling with his smart suit and the supposedly fashionable tie Thomas had picked out for him. Thomas was already downstairs in the club, schmoozing and managing, no doubt checking his watch and the stage and waiting for Jimmy to make his appearance.

“You can do this you silly buggar,” Jimmy chided. He meant more than just the show, the singing and the playing. He meant facing Ivy and Daisy and stupid Alfred - coming out, so to speak. Jimmy held his head up and made his way downstairs; the club was half-full, which was pretty good for a Thursday night. There were flyers lying around on the tables advertising the main act – Jack Ross and his band – with Jimmy’s name in smaller print underneath.

“Jimmyyyyyyy!” A high pitched and overly-excited voice called from across the club, audible even over the music that was blaring through the speakers. Jimmy would recognise that piercing shriek anywhere – it was Ivy. Sure enough, her smiling face appeared through the spattering of people on the dance floor, followed by Daisy and Alfred. Ivy threw her arms around Jimmy in an overly-friendly hug and Jimmy patted her back awkwardly.

“How are you?” Ivy grinned, “It’s been ages!”

“It’s been like, a week,” Jimmy pulled a face.

“Ooh don’t you look smart!” Daisy added. “Are you nervous?”

“Me? Is it likely?” Jimmy winked at Daisy and she rolled her eyes.

“Where’s your _manager_ then?” Alfred piped up, a half-drunk beer in his hand.

“Oh I don’t know,” Jimmy sneered, “it’s not like we spend every minute together.”

“S’funny,” Daisy said, “because I dropped by your flat an’ your landlady said you’d not been back for a week. She were dead worried.”

Jimmy gaped for a moment and tried to think of a sensible reason for his absence – preferably one that didn’t involve writhing around in Thomas’s bed with his cock bumping against the back of Thomas’s throat. “I’ve just been busy,” he groped, “working late hours and that. She must’ve just not seen me.”

“So what’ve you been doing?” Ivy asked, completely ignoring the obvious stroppy tone in Jimmy’s voice.

“Oh, nothing much,” Jimmy waved away her question, his eyes on the new piano that Thomas had purchased especially for his first performance. Thomas was snide and almost mean to other people, but with Jimmy he was caring, loving even. He would go out of his way to make Jimmy smile or laugh. And in the bedroom Jimmy always came first, in every sense of the word. It was like Jimmy bought out the secret, gentle side of Thomas Barrow.

“Nothing much eh?” Thomas said, suddenly appearing behind Daisy’s shoulder. “That doesn’t paint me in a very positive light, does it?” Alfred choked on the swig of beer her was taking, spluttering most of it back into the glass.

“He just means we spend a lot of time together working, seeing as we’re colleagues and friends,” Jimmy laughed nervously, crossing his arms. “Don’t you Thomas?”

“If you like, _James_ ,” Thomas hissed, narrowing his eyes. He turned on his heel and walked away – Jimmy followed his back through the crowd, an empty feeling in his stomach telling him he’d made a terrible mistake. Thomas had forgiven him a lot over the past couple of months, but this – denying him when it mattered – Jimmy wasn’t sure he would excuse it.

“He’s not changed much, has he?” Ivy giggled, but Jimmy ignored her and followed Thomas across the club, catching up to him at the bar.

“Thomas, wait,” Jimmy said, catching Thomas by the wrist.

“You better get ready, you’re on in five,” Thomas huffed and pulled away sharply, his face blank.

“I didn’t mean that, back there,” Jimmy pleaded, “I just – I was just…”

“Ashamed?” Thomas retorted. “Or embarrassed?”

“No – I,” Jimmy cut in, but Thomas was in no mood to listen.

“I’ve given you time and plenty of chances, James.” Thomas shook his head, his eyes hard. “I’d do a lot for you, I’d give you anything you wanted, you know I’m – I’m a fool when it comes to you. But I won’t be anyone’s dirty little secret. Not even yours.” And he disappeared into his office, closing the door behind him.

Jimmy bit back tears – he’d finally ruined it. Nothing would convince Thomas he was serious about him now.

Or would it?

In that moment Jimmy knew which song he would play on stage – he just had to hope Thomas would listen and understand.

~

Five minutes later and Thomas was centre stage, introducing Jimmy as the warm-up act.

“Welcome, regulars and new faces, to the Lotus Club,” Thomas smiled, ever the professional, raising a cheer from the small crowd gathered on the dance floor. Jimmy stood jittering in the wings, his hastily-gathered sheet music clutched in his hands. “Tonight we’ve got two different but equally talented acts for you – later Jack Ross and his band will be back to get you all dancing. But first, in his Lotus Club début, it’s my pleasure to introduce Jimmy Kent!”

The crowd applauded; Jimmy could her Ivy catcalling. He passed Thomas on his way onto the stage, but Thomas refused to make eye contact. The spotlights were hot and blinding, making it impossible for Jimmy to see past the first couple of rows of the crowd. That was probably for the best – he thought he might pass out if he paid too much attention to all the people watching him. He sat heavily at the piano and adjusted the microphone with shaking hands.

“Good evening,” he managed to say, his mouth already dry. _God, I’ll never be able to sing!_ He thought. “This song – this is for someone very special to me. It’s for someone I’ve not treated as well as I should have and I – I hope he – I hope Thomas will forgive me.”

The opening notes echoed through the club, the audience quiet but attentive. Jimmy had to force himself to stay in time and breathe. He sang, his voice clear and strong despite his nerves because god, it mattered so much. For the first time Jimmy realised just how much it did matter.

_“As the winter winds littered London with lonely hearts, oh the warmth in your eyes swept me into your arms. Was it love or fear of the cold that led us through the night? For every kiss your beauty trumped my doubt._

_And my head told my heart; let love grow. But my heart told my head, this time no, this time no.”_

And Jimmy played, better than he thought he’d ever played before, and sang – every emotion he’d felt over the past two months swelling in his chest and carrying his heart into the night.

_“Oh the shame that sent my off from the god that I once loved, was the same that sent me into your heart,”_ Jimmy felt the pinpricks of tears behind his eyes and he just didn’t care anymore. This was it – his last chance and he was going to make it count. _“Oh and pestilence is won when you are lost and I am gone, and hope, no hope can overcome.”_

_“And if your strife strikes at your sleep,” Jimmy’s lower lip trembled and his voice broke. “Remember spring swaps snow for leaves. You’ll be happy and wholesome again, when the city clears and the sun ascends.”_ And Jimmy cried – he couldn’t find enough breath to sing the chorus again, so he played out the final few bars of the song as an instrumental, his cheeks wet with fallen tears.

A heavy silence settled over the club, the audience shocked by the emotion in Jimmy’s performance. Ivy, Daisy and Alfred were standing right at the edge of the stage; Jimmy could make out their shocked faces and the outline of Alfred’s lanky frame as he raised his arms above his head and started a slow but loud clap. Daisy joined in after a beat, followed by Ivy and several members of the audience until the applause spread throughout the theatre like a forest fire fanned by a squally breeze.

“I – thank you,” Jimmy said, standing on shaky legs and taking an awkward bow.

“Jimmy,” Thomas strode out from stage left, his face unreadable. He stopped, a foot short of where Jimmy was standing in the centre of the stage, seemingly halted by indecision.

Jimmy swallowed hard, his throat working, but he found he couldn’t summon one word. Actions speak louder than words, he thought, and closed the gap between himself and Thomas, his eyes meeting Thomas’s pale grey ones. Jimmy pushed himself up onto his toes, levelling out the height difference between himself and the older man, and placed a soft, tentative kiss on Thomas’s slightly parted lips. An audible gasp rose from the onlookers and Jimmy sighed with relief against Thomas’s mouth when he finally reciprocated.

“Woo! Go Jimmy!” Daisy shouted and Jimmy responded by wrapping his arms around Thomas’s waist and pushing his tongue into Thomas’s mouth. Thomas bought his hands up and buried them in Jimmy’s hair, his body sinking into Jimmy’s.

“I love you Thomas,” Jimmy said when they finally parted.

“And I love you, you idiot,” Thomas replied, a smile creeping onto his red lips. Jimmy couldn’t help but grin in return. “Ladies and gentlemen,” Thomas announced to the spectators, “let’s hear it for Mr Jimmy Kent. That was quite a performance.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Jimmy sings in this chapter is 'Winter Winds' by Mumford and Sons. Not mine! Don't own it etc.
> 
> There's probably going to be just one more chapter of this!


	6. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Danger: smut ahead. Not for kids.

“I’m exhausted,” Jimmy sighed, dropping a pile of sheet music on the coffee table and kicking off his shoes.

“I don’t know why,” Thomas smirked, “you haven’t exactly been working hard. More like _hardly working._ ” 

“I’ll have you know it takes a lot of energy and concentration to get up on that stage and perform like a professional,” Jimmy replied with mock anger, poking Thomas in the ribs.

“But you’re performances are _nothing_ like a professional,” Thomas laughed, dodging out of Jimmy’s reach before he could launch an attack. Jimmy schooled his face into something resembling indignation, but he couldn’t keep the smile from his lips.

“You’re a terrible tease Mr Barrow,” Jimmy pouted.

“Then come to bed and let me tease you _terribly_ ,” Thomas replied.

“Not too terribly I hope,” Jimmy said, letting Thomas lead him into their bedroom; it truly was _their_ bedroom now and _their_ flat. Jimmy had moved in surreptitiously over the course of a month by gradually bringing his possessions over and just sort of leaving them at Thomas’s flat. It was underhand yes, but Jimmy was doing it with the best of intentions – he _wanted_ to move in with Thomas but he really did not want to have the long and uncomfortable and _serious_ conversation that would undoubtedly accompany any request to do so. And really, it should be Thomas asking, begging, Jimmy to move in with him. Jimmy grinned smugly at his own cleverness; he’d almost completed his stealthy relocation and he’d be well and truly settled before Thomas had even realised what was going on.

“What are you thinking about?” Thomas asked, pulling Jimmy’s collar aside and pressing a kiss against his collarbone.

“Oh nothing, just _you_ ,” Jimmy winked and waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Hmm,” Thomas narrowed his eyes, “then why are you wearing that look, that one you get when you think you’re being clever?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Jimmy shrugged and ran his fingers over Thomas’s chest, stopping briefly to tease each nipple through the fabric of his shirt.

“So if I were to mention the way your clothes have suddenly appeared in the wardrobe, you wouldn’t have anything to say about it?” Thomas worked the buttons of Jimmy’s shirt open, his singular eyes fixed on the task.

“You want me to look good when I play at the club, don’t you?” Jimmy replied, letting himself be undressed by the older man.

“And the ever-growing pile of DVD’s and books and sheet music on the living room floor?” Thomas succeeded on removing Jimmy’s shirt; he discarded it and moved on to his belt.

“I bring things and I forget about them,” Jimmy said flatly, beginning to think his plan had indeed been noticed. Jimmy considered himself rather clever, but Thomas was undeniably more intelligent. He was quick, witty and well-read and Jimmy often found himself on the back foot in conversations about literature, art and politics. The only subject Jimmy ever felt confident he knew more about was music.

“You know Jimmy,” Thomas smiled softly and pulled Jimmy’s belt from his belt loops with a flick of his wrist. Jimmy imagined bending over and letting Thomas smack him lightly with the belt; his cock twitched at the idea and he filed it in his mind under ‘things to do later’. “If you want to move in, you only have to ask.”

“I – I didn’t know if you would you want me here,” Jimmy said, his mind finally falling on the _real_ reason he had planned to move in covertly. “I know I’m difficult to live with. I use all the hot water and I make messes I forget to clean up and I burn everything I cook and I get so tetchy when I don’t get enough sleep and I” – Jimmy stopped and pouted crossly; Thomas was looking at him with thinly veiled bemusement. “It’s not funny Thomas,” he folded his arms, even though it made him look like a petulant child.

“Hmm,” Thomas frowned and pretended to be in deep thought. “You _do_ use all the hot water,” Thomas took Jimmy’s hand and held it between his own before lifting it to his mouth and placing tender kisses on his knuckles. “And you _never_ wash up,” he kissed Jimmy’s fingers one at a time, his lips soft and warm against Jimmy’s skin. “And you are an awful fidget – I often wake up with no covers at all.” Thomas nuzzled at the inside of Jimmy’s wrist then fixed Jimmy with a serious look. “I’ve considered it and I have to say, you _are_ very difficult to live with. But you’re impossible to live without. And I can’t stand being away from you, Jimmy Kent. If I have to spend the rest of my life having cold showers and doing the washing up, it’ll be worth it.”

“I – I love you Thomas,” Jimmy said suddenly, throwing his arms around Thomas and tackling him. The two men collapsed back onto the bed, their arms and legs tangled. “Though I don’t know _why_ sometimes.”

“You know why,” Thomas grinned, “an’ I love you too. You bloody pain in the arse.” He chased Jimmy’s lips with his own; Jimmy laughed and resisted before kissing Thomas passionately, his tongue pressing into the older man’s mouth.

“I’m grateful y’know,” Jimmy smiled softly and ran his fingers through Thomas’s hair. “You’ve been…patient with me.”

“Patience is a required quality when dealing with you, Jimmy,” Thomas replied, and then grimaced in expectation of Jimmy exacting revenge by means of poking, prodding or tickling.

“I’m being _serious_ ,” Jimmy protested and Thomas’s face softened, his pale eyes full of affection.

“I – ah, it’s alright Jimmy,” he replied, abashed. “I – I love you, you know that, and I – well I suppose I’d have waited it out for as long as you needed to take. I – uh, I just got frustrated at your denial but it’s alright now.” Thomas propped himself up on one elbow and wrapped his other arm around Jimmy’s waist.

“It’s good now,” Jimmy said, “very good. And there’s something – something I want to do that we’ve never done before.”

“Oh?” Thomas said, his eyebrows merging with his hairline. “Do tell.”

“I’d like to – to – well that is I _want_ to…” Jimmy blushed and struggled with the reality of what he was about to say. They’d done a _lot_ of different things in the bedroom and this – this was the last taboo that Jimmy needed, no, _wanted_ , to overcome.

“If you can’t _say_ it,” Thomas drawled, “then we certainly aren’t going to _do_ it.”

“Alright,” Jimmy snapped, “sex. I want sex. I want you to – bugger me.” Thomas broke down into fits of hysterical laughter.

“That’s awfully romantic of you,” he guffawed, “buggery it is then.”

“S’not that funny,” Jimmy sulked, chewing on his bottom lip. “Just ‘cuz I haven’t let half the country sodomize me.”

“Aha – oh - sorry,” Thomas forced his face into an overly solemn expression.

“Actually,” Jimmy stared studiously at the wall behind Thomas, “I – I haven’t _been_ with anyone.”

“I know,” Thomas replied, pulling Jimmy into a comforting embrace. “You may have mentioned it five or six times now.”

“Ack, sorry, I’m just nervous about it,” Jimmy said, leaning in to Thomas’s arms.

“We don’t have to,” Thomas stated, “ever. I never expect you to do anything you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” Jimmy said, “I want you to do it to me. I think about it a lot and – I just want it ok? Don’t make me beg.” He wanted to because he _loved_ Thomas, he loved him more than he thought was reasonable, and he wanted to be as close as possible – it didn’t get any more intimate than having Thomas inside him.

“Alright,” Thomas whispered, kissing the shell of Jimmy’s ear, “alright.” He pulled Jimmy back down on to the bed and they kissed languidly, their bodies pressed together, side-by-side. When they broke apart, Thomas quickly divested Jimmy of the remainder of his clothing and then followed suit, dropping each garment over the edge of the bed in a strange, almost sacrificial ritual. He kissed a path across Jimmy’s chest and stomach, ghosting his fingers over Jimmy’s skin and leaving gooseflesh in his wake.

“Yes, that – that’s very nice,” Jimmy sighed, carding his fingers through Thomas’s hair.

“Mhmm,” Thomas hummed, his lips delivering delicious vibrations that seemed to travel directly to his cock. Thomas moved lower, biting and licking and sucking his way up and down Jimmy’s thighs, making the blonde writhe and moan.

“Ah Thomas,” Jimmy hissed, “stop teasin’.”

“Alright,” Thomas purred, before taking Jimmy’s hard-on into his mouth. Jimmy gasped – no matter how many times Thomas did _that_ , he still couldn’t get over the overwhelming sensation of pleasure – and eroticism – it conjured. Thomas worked Jimmy’s cock artfully, switching between hands and lips and tongue, until Jimmy was red-faced and panting.

“Thomas, T-Thomas – stop, oh, _stop_ ,” Jimmy said, “it’s too much.” Thomas nodded and pulled away – his own penis looked painfully hard and the tell-tale blush had settled across his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose, indicating he was more aroused than he’d ever admit to. “Tell me what to do then.”

“Are you sure?” Thomas asked, concerned – but his eyes were dark with passion, his irises almost swallowed up by his pupils.

“Yes, I’m bloody sure,” Jimmy replied.

“Ok,” Thomas said, “I have to get you _prepared_.” He hopped off the bed and rummaged around in his underwear draw, returning with a bottle of lube. “I’m going to put my fingers inside you,” he said with a smirk, gesturing lewdly. Jimmy cringed involuntarily at the thought and Thomas’s face creased with concern.

“It’s alright,” Jimmy said, “I trust you.” Thomas nodded tightly and spread a generous amount of lube on his index and middle fingers. As Thomas slowly eased one finger into Jimmy, the younger man groaned and bit down on his lip. It didn’t hurt so much as _burn_ , but Thomas was gentle and conscientious, taking his time to work Jimmy open with one, and then two fingers. “Mmph,” Jimmy mumbled, “s’nice, it’s – ah – Thomas, _more_.” Thomas obliged, gently thrusting his fingers until he found the spot he was looking for. “Ah, oh – T-Thomas – _yes_ , thatpleasemore,” Jimmy stuttered, rocking his hips. He’d never felt anything – anything so singularly exquisite in all his life. Thomas removed his fingers and Jimmy whimpered, feeling empty and bereft.

“I’m going to do it now,” Thomas said, his voice almost unrecognisable. He slathered lube onto his shaft with a groan and Jimmy watched, his own cock leaking uncontrollably. Thomas knelt between Jimmy’s thighs and held his waist, lifting Jimmy to the desired angle, before pressing the head of his penis at Jimmy’s opening and inching himself inside.

“Shit, fuck,” Jimmy inhaled, balling his fists in the duvet, “s’too much Thomas, I…”

“We can stop,” Thomas whispered, holding his body still – it seemed to be taking all of his strength to resist thrusting into Jimmy. He rubbed soothing circles on Jimmy’s thighs and bent over to kiss him roughly on the lips.

“No, I don’t want to stop,” Jimmy said against Thomas’s mouth. “Just – slowly, slower, please.” Thomas dipped his head in a grave nod and focussed his ministrations on Jimmy’s aching member until Jimmy was ready for him to fully seat himself inside.

“Jimmy – ah – _Jimmy_ , yes,” Thomas said, his eyes fluttering closed as he rocked his hips minutely.

“Yes, Thomas, yes, please – more, oh, _more_ ,” Jimmy moaned, gripping Thomas’s arms and moving his own hips slightly in time with Thomas’s thrusts. His whole body, his whole sense of being, seemed to shrink down to that point, where he was connected with Thomas, until it was all he could feel.

“Jimmy – oh Jimmy – I love you, oh, I _can’t_ ,” Thomas whimpered desperately, his movement becoming jerky and fraught. He wrapped his hand around Jimmy’s cock and gave three erratic strokes.

“Oh oh oh, Thomas – Iloveyoudon’tstop – ah,” and Jimmy came, his seed trickling down Thomas’s fingers and pooling on his stomach.

“You’re – too – beautiful,” Thomas panted between thrusts, “I can’t, I – I – I -” he stilled, every muscle tensed to breaking point, then cried out as he came inside Jimmy, his body shuddering and sending little bolts of electricity through Jimmy’s hyper-sensitive form. Thomas slumped forwards, his eyes squeezed shut, and rested his head against Jimmy’s chest.

“Thomas?” Jimmy said, trailing his fingers down the older man’s back. There was a long pause.

“Yes Jimmy?” Thomas managed, still trying to calm the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

“I think I might be gay,” Jimmy smirked, and Thomas lifted his head just enough to give him an incredibly withering look.

“You don’t bloody say,” he replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally finished it, bloody hell. Sorry about the wait for the last part, I had some trouble with the smut. I hope you all enjoyed it and I might be convinced to write a sequel if people actually want to read more about these two idiots.
> 
> Thank you all for reading and leaving lovely comments. ILY.


End file.
